


"i don't get sick"

by Marvellous



Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Not Beta Read, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 21:33:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15203945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvellous/pseuds/Marvellous
Summary: Andrew doesn't get sick, or so he says.





	"i don't get sick"

**Author's Note:**

> Another Standrew drabble?? I just can't get enough of these two....oops!

“I don’t get sick,” Andrew had been quick to shoot Steven’s suggestion down the night before, his red eyes and hoarse voice telling a different story completely.

Steven had rolled his eyes, “Alright, well you still need to rest. I think you should stay home from work tomorrow.”

Andrew crossed his arms and huffed, “No, I’ll be fine.”

After a full night of not sleeping and a progressively harder time talking, he admitted that maybe he was, in fact, coming down with something and was persuaded to stay home from work. Andrew was stubborn, but even he knew that work and being sick was not a good combination.

And, as much as it sucked that he was sick, Steven liked the idea that he could take care of his boyfriend once he got home. Hence the multiple grocery bags he was hauling through the door of their apartment. Sure he could have made another trip, but no, he’d rather lose the circulation in his fingers than make it easier on himself.

Nudging the door shut with his shoulder, he tried to be quiet as he made his way to the kitchen. Steven had just assumed Andrew was finally sleeping since he hadn't gotten an answer when he last called him. He could sleep through a fire alarm…which was…worrying, but they'd work on that some other time. 

Once he had the bags all set atop the counter, Steven put his hands on his hips and decided unpacking could wait until after he checked on Andrew and made sure he wasn't actually dead or something. 

Making his way down the hall, a small smile found his lips upon reaching the door to the bedroom. “Aww,” he breathed as he took in the soft image before him.

The curtains were closed except for a small sliver of the evening light which reached across the room. Andrew was curled up under several blankets, ones Steven had never even seen before, one cat curled up in the crook of where his legs would be under the heaps of fabric, the other sprawled beside a blank-screen laptop. Yes, two cats, because they meant to adopt one, but when they were already a bonded pair, what else were you supposed to do? They were sort of like Andrew and himself. Without each other, yah, they might be fine, but it sure wasn't a fun thing to think about.

The two black cats stirred when Steven sat on the edge of the bed, blinking their eyes in unison before returning to their previous states of cat-napping. Steven laughed quietly before reaching across a sleeping Andrew to close the computer and put it on the bedside table. His eyes lingered on Andrew then, his eyes still red, with a nose to match now, lips parted and breathing pattern slightly abnormal.

Steven smiled sadly, because despite it all, Andrew still looked peaceful. He wasn't about to disturb that for him, so he pulled the blankets further over his shoulders, placed a quick kiss on his forehead, then headed back to the kitchen to take care of the groceries he’d gone through hell to get, because as he’d learned, grocery stores on Friday evenings were teeming with soccer moms.

A chill ran down his spine when he remembered the death glare he received from one woman when he took the last jug of pulp-free orange juice out of the cooler. 

Now, Steven at this point in time was a fairly good cook, or at least he liked to think he was. Maybe it was all the fancy food making him think otherwise. Either way, he got a recipe from someone at the office that was supposed to be the best chicken noodle soup for someone with the flu. It sounded easy enough, but it turned out something as simple as soup actually had a lot of different components, and getting them all in order wasn't as quick as initially thought.

“I’ve got this,” Steven said to himself, an air of overconfidence overtaking him as he set to work, playing some quiet music from the speakers they kept in the kitchen. 

He had the chicken cooking on the stove in no time, moving onto chopping the various vegetables. In his head he started adding up the cost of everything, maybe out of habit, and concluded that it was in fact worth it. Especially if it did what it was supposed to and helped Andrew feel better.

He was in the middle of chopping an onion when he heard footsteps joining him in the kitchen.

Andrew pulled his arms close to his body, dressed in a bulky sweater and shorts as he looked between the stove and Steven, an almost delirious smile on his lips, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Cooking,” Steven replied without batting an eyelash, “What does it look like?”

“Well,” Andrew paused, worrying at his bottom lip as he surveyed the mess on the counter, organization of utensils and ingredients alike thrown to the wind, “It looks like hurricane Steven went through our kitchen.”

Steven scoffed.

“Let me help,” Andrew offered, starting to gather some of the discarded wrappers and bags off the counter to clear space.

“No! You’re sick, don’t touch anything.”

“It’s a cold, not the plague,” Andrew started just as his body decided to start a round of coughing.

“Hm,” Steven said skeptically as he side eyed the other man, “You sure about that?”

Andrew opened his mouth to say something, instead wincing before he shook his head.

Steven stuck out his bottom lip and dropped what he was doing to go wrap his arms around Andrew, hugging him tightly, “I’m sorry you feel so shitty.”

Andrew shrugged and let his forehead fall on Steven’s shoulder, “Way it goes sometimes.”

Pulling back, Steven could smell mint, meaning Andrew probably just brushed his teeth. His hair was a mess, sticking in every which direction in it’s signature wisps, bright eyes betraying how exhausted he was. “At least you got some sleep,” Steven tried to point out the bright side.

Andrew hummed in agreement before sniffing, eyes flicking to the stove, “I think whatever you have on the stove is burning.”

Eyes widening, Steven wrenched himself away from Andrew and rushed back to the stove, shooing away a curious cat that had hopped onto the counter to investigate the burning meat. “Get out of here, cat,” Steven said, words non threatening as he turned the element off and brought the pan over to the sink, “Andrew, make sure she doesn't burn herself.”

Already scooping the cat up in his arms, Andrew held her close as he joined Steven at the sink, surveying the damage done, “Maybe we can save it?”

Steven sighed deeply, stepping back and fixing a look at Andrew that showed he was more than a little discouraged at the turn of events, “How?”

Leaning over to let the cat free, Andrew pulled the sleeves of his sweater to his elbows, and washed his hands before wordlessly taking the pan out of Steven’s hands. He used a fork to put the individual strips of chicken on a clean cutting board, using a knife to shave off the bottoms that were burnt beyond use. 

“You’re sick and still saving the day,” Steven hummed as he leaned on the counter beside Andrew.

“I’m not doing all of it,” Andrew assured, a teasing glint in his eyes as he pushed some of the unchopped vegetables to Steven.

Steven grinned and took the job easily, setting to work in companionable silence. 

Andrew had read the recipe that Steven had been given, following more or less to a t. It was surprisingly easy. Once everything was in the pot, stewing in the chicken broth and spices, the pair looked at each other, satisfied with what they had going at this point. 

“That would’ve been the most boring Eating Your Feed video ever,” Andrew remarked as he poured himself a glass of orange juice, figuring it had been enough time since he brushed his teeth by now.

“Maybe,” Steven agreed, throwing some stuff away in the trash, “Sometimes boring is okay though.”

Andrew nodded slowly in agreement to that, turning away to sneeze into the crook of his arm a few times. A shiver ran the course of his body and reminded him that despite the temporary distraction, he was still very much sick.

Steven walked over to him and pressed a quick kiss to his nose, “Wanna lay down on the couch until it’s ready?”

Andrew’s eyelids were heavy as he shook his head, managing a hoarse but still verbal answer, “I’m alright.”

“That’s a lie,” Steven scoffed fondly, missing the usual deep laughter that would have gotten from Andrew, “Come on-“

“Shh,” Andrew hushed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned over to turn up the volume of the speakers behind them, “This is a good song.”

Steven blinked a few times at the way Andrew had so seamlessly changed the subject, “You’re impossible.”

Andrew put a hand on Steven’s hips, the other on his back as he pulled the taller man closer to him, mostly for the warmth to be found there.

A content feeling waved over Steven as he rubbed Andrew’s arms through his sweater, giving in to the easy sway of their bodies with the music. He dropped one hand to tangle their fingers together and smiled at the cliche of it all. “Are we dancing?” he asked, pretending to be shocked.

Andrew huffed, which turned into a small fit of coughing. Once he recovered he looked Steven in the eyes and shook his head, “I don’t dance.”

“Of course not,” Steven pursed his lips and nodded, the next words in his head going unsaid, ‘Just like you don’t get sick.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading, kudos/comments always greatly appreciated <3
> 
> If anyone was curious, the song I imagined for the end there was 'On the Train Ride Home' by The Paper Kites. Amazing band and gorgeous song. Highly recommend!


End file.
